OVID's METAMORPHOSES IN FIFTEEN BOOKS. Tranſlated by the moſt Eminent HANDS.

Adorn'd with SCULPTURES.

LONDON: Printed for JACOB TONSON at Shakeſpear's-Head over-againſt Katharine-Street in the Strand. MDCCXVII.

THE Method I propoſe in writing this Preface, is to take Notice of ſome of the Beauties of the Metamorphoſes, and alſo of the Faults, and particular Affectations. After which I ſhall proceed to hint at ſome Rules for Tranſlation in general; and ſhall give a ſhort Account of the following Verſion.

I ſhall not pretend to impoſe my Opinion on others with the magiſterial Authority of a Critic; but only take the Liberty of diſcovering my own Taſte. I ſhall endeavour to ſhow our Poet's Redundance of Wit, Juſtneſs of Compariſons, Elegance of Deſcriptions, and peculiar Delicacy in touching every Circumſtance relating to the Paſſions, and Affections; and with the ſame Impartiality, and Frankneſs, I ſhall confeſs the too frequent Puerilities of his luxuriant Fancy, and the too great Negligence of his ſometimes unlabour'd Verſification.

I am not of an Opinion, too common to Tranſlators, to think that One is under an Obligation to extoll every thing he finds in the Author he undertakes: I am ſure one is no more oblig'd to do ſo, than a Painter is to make every Face that ſits to him handſome. 'Tis enough if he ſets the beſt Features he finds in their full, and moſt advantageous Light. But if the Poet has private Deformities, tho' Good-breeding will not allow to expoſe him naked, yet ſurely there can be no Reaſon to recommend him, as the moſt finiſh'd Model of Harmony, and Proportion.

Whoever has this undiſtinguiſhing Complaiſance, will not fail to vitiate the Taſte of the Readers, and miſguide many of them in their Judgment, where to Approve, and where to Cenſure.

It muſt be granted, that where there appears an infinite Variety of inimitable Excellencies, it would be too harſh, and diſingenuous to be ſevere on ſuch Faults, as have eſcap'd rather thro' want of Leiſure, and Opportunity to correct, than thro' the erroneous Turn of a deprav'd Judgment. How ſenſible Ovid himſelf was of the Uncorrectneſs of the Metamorphoſes, appears from theſe Lines prefix'd before ſome of the Editions by the Care of his Commentators; Triſt. El. vi Orba parente ſuo quicunque Volumina tangis, His ſaltem veſlrâ detur in urbe locus. Quò que magis ſaveas; non ſunt haec edita ab Illo, Sed quaſi de domini funere rapta ſui. Quicquid in his igitur vilii rude carmen habebit, Emendaturus, ſi licuiſſeſ, erat.

Since therefore the Readers are not ſolemnly invited to an Entertainment, but come accidentally; they ought to be contented with what they find: And pray what have they to complain of, but too great Variety? where, tho' ſome of the Diſhes be not ſerv'd in the exacteſt Order, and Politeneſs, but haſh'd up in haſte; there are a great many accommodated to every particular Palate.

To like every thing, ſhows too little Delicacy; and to like nothing, too much Difficulty. So great is the Variety of this Poem, that the Reader, who is never pleas'd, will appear as monſtrous, as he that is always ſo. Here are the Hurries of Battles for the Heroe, tender Emotions of Soul for the Lover, a Search, and Penetration into Nature for the Philoſopher, Fluency of Numbers, and moſt expreſſive Figures for the Poet, Morals for the Serious, and Plaiſantries for Admirers of Points of Wit.

'Tis certain a Poet is more to be ſuſpected for ſaying too much, than too little. To add is often hazardous; but to retrench, commonly judicious. If our Author, inſtead of ſaying all he could, had only ſaid all he ſhould; Daphne had done well to fly from the God of Wit, in order to crown his Poet: Thus Ovid had been more honour'd, and ador'd in his Exile, than Auguſtus in his Triumphs.

I ſhall now attempt to give ſome Inſtances of the Happineſs, and vaſt Extent of our Author's Imagination. I ſhall not proceed according to the Order of the Poem, but rather tranſcribe ſome Lines here, and there, as my Reflection ſhall ſuggeſt.

Thus was the State of Nature before the Creation: And here it is obvious, that Ovid had a diſcerning Notion of the Gravitation of Bodies. 'Tis now demonſtrated, that every Part of Matter tends to every Part of Matter with a Force, which is always in a direct ſimple Proportion of the Quantity of the Matter, and an inverſe duplicate Proportion of the Diſtance; which Tendency, or Gravitating is conſtant, and univerſal. This Power, whatever it be, acting always proportionably to the ſolid Content of Bodies, and never in any Proportion to their Superficies; cannot be explain'd by any material Impulſe. For the Laws of Impulſe are phyſically neceſſary: There can be no 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , or arbitrary Principle in meer Matter; its Parts cannot move unleſs they be mov'd; and cannot do otherwiſe, when preſs'd on by other Parts in Motion; and therefore 'tis evident from the following Lines, that Ovid ſtrictly adher'd to the Opinion of the moſt diſcerning Philoſophers, who taught that all things were form'd by a wiſe, and intelligent Mind.

The Fiat of the Hebrew Law-giver is not more ſublime, than the Juſſit of the Latin Poet, who goes on in the ſame Elevated, and Philoſophical Style.

Here the Author ſpreads a thin Veil of Aether over his Infant Creation; and tho' his aſſerting the upper Region to be void of Gravitation, may not, in a Mathematical Rigour, be true; yet 'tis found from the Natural Enquities made ſince, and eſpecially from the learned Dr. Hally's Diſcourſe on the Barometer, that if, on the Surface of the Earth, an Inch of Quickſilver in the Tube be equal to a Cylinder of Air of 300 Foot, it will be at a Mile's height equal to a Cylinder of Air of 2700000: and therefore the Air at ſo great a Diſtance from the Earth, muſt be rarify'd to ſo great a Degree, that the Space it fills muſt bear a very ſmall Proportion to that which is entirely void of Matter.

I think, we may be confident from what already appears, as well as from what our Author has writ on the Roman Feaſts, that he cou'd not be totally ignorant of Aſtronomy. Some of the Criticks wou'd inſinuate from the following Lines, that he miſtook the annual Motion of the Sun for the Diurnal.

Tho' the Sun be always in one or other of the Signs of the Zodiack, and never goes by either Motion more Northward, or Southward, than is here deſcrib'd; Yet Phaeton being deſign'd to drive the Chariot but one Day, ought to have been directed in the Aequator, or a Circle Parallel to it, and not round the other Oblique one of the Ecliptick: a Degree of which, and that by a Motion contrary to the Diurnal, he was obliged to go in that length of Time.

I am inclin'd to think, that Ovid had ſo great an Attention to Poetical Embeliſhments, that he voluntarily declin'd a ſtrict Obſervance of any Aſtronomical Syſtem. For tho' that Science was far from being neglected in former Ages; yet the Progreſs which was made in it, by no means equall'd that of our preſent Time.

Lucretius, tho' in other things moſt penetrating, deſcribes the Sun ſcarce bigger, than he appears to the Eye.

And Homer, imagining the Seats of the Gods above the fix'd Stars, repreſents the falling of Vulcan from thence to the Iſle of Lemnos, to continue during a whole Day.

The Greek Poet aims here to give a ſurpriſing Idea of the height of the Celeſtial Manſions: but if the Computation of a modern Aſtronomer be true, they are at ſo much a greater Diſtance, that Vulcan wou'd have been more Years in falling, than he was Minutes.

But leaſt I ſhou'd exceed the uſual Length of a Preface, I ſhall now give ſome Inſtances of the Propriety of our Author's Similes, and Epithets; the Perſpicuity of his Allegories; the Inſtructive Excellence of the Morals; the peculiar happy Turn of his Fancy; and ſhall begin with the Elegance of his Deſcriptions.

Theſe Lines introduce thoſe of the Deluge, which are alſo very Poetical, and worthy to be compar'd with the next, concerning the Golden Age.

Virgil has alſo touch'd upon the ſame Subject in the end of the Second Georgick.

And again Aen. B. S. l. 319. Primus ab aetherio venit Saturnus Olympo — Aurea, quae perhibent, illo ſub rege ſuerunt Saecula: ſic placidà populos in pace regebat.

Some of the Lines, a little foreign to the preſent Subject, are omitted; but I ſhall make the moſt admirable Author amends by tranſcribing at length his next Deſcription. 'Tis of a Stag, which gave the firſt Occaſion to the War betwixt the Trojans and the Rutulians: I chuſe this, becauſe my Deſign is to have theſe two great Poets ſeen together, where the Subject happens to be almoſt the ſame, tho' the Nature of the Poems be very different.

The Image which Ovid gives of the Favourite Stag ſlain accidentally by Cypariſſus, ſeems not of leſs Dignity.

In the following Lines, Ovid deſcribes the watry Court of the River Peneus, which the Reader may compare with Virgil's Subterranean Grott of Cyrene the Naïad, Mother to Ariſtaeus.

The Divine Poet goes on in Pomp of Numbers, and eaſy Magnificence of Words, till he introduces the Story of Orpheus and Euridice; in the Narration of which, he is as much ſuperior to Ovid, as the Reeds of his own Mantuan Shepherds are leſs Muſical, than the Lyre of Orpheus.

That I may not be too long on this Article, I ſhall recommend to the Reader, Ovid's admirable Deſcription of Sleep—Eſt prope Cimmerios—Met. B. 11. That of Hunger—Eſt locus extremis Scythiae—B. 8. That of the Plague—Dira lues—B. 7. That of Fame—Orbe locus medio eſt—B. 12.

Virgil has alſo touch'd on the two laſt; in the one he had Lucretius in View; in the other, Homer: and I think it will not be to the Diſadvantage of our Author to appear at the ſame time.

There are many other Deſcriptions ſcatter'd in the Metamorphoſes, which, for juſt Expreſſion of Nature, and Majeſtick Modulation of Words, are only Inferior to thoſe already tranſcrib'd, as they are ſhorter; which makes the Objection, that his Diction is commonly loytring into Proſe, a great deal too ſevere.

The Metamorphoſes muſt be conſider'd, as is obſerv'd before, very uncorrect; and Virgil's Works as finiſh'd: tho' his own Modeſty wou'd not allow the Aeneids to be ſo. It ſeems it was harder for him to pleaſe himſelf, than his Readers. His Judgment was certainly great, nor was his Vivacity of Imagination leſs; for the firſt without the laſt is too heavy, and like a Dreſs without Fancy; and the laſt without the firſt is too gay, and but all Trimming.

Our Author's Similitudes are next to be conſider'd, which are always remarkably ſhort, and convey ſome pleaſing Idea to the Imagination. 'Tis in this Branch of the Poem, that he has diſcover'd as juſt a Judgement, as any of the Claſſicks whatever. Poets, to give a Looſe to a warm Fancy, are generally too apt, not only to expatiate in their Simile's, but introduce them too frequently; by doing the firſt, they detain the Attention too long from the principal Narration; and by the latter, they make too frequent Breaches in the Unity of the Poem.

Thoſe two Errors Ovid has moſt diſcerningly avoided. How ſhort, and ſignificant are generally his Compariſons! he fails not, in theſe, to keep a ſtiff Rein on a High-mettled Pegaſus; and takes care not to ſurfeit here, as he has done on other Heads, by an erroneous Abundance.

His Simile's are thicker ſown by much in the Fable of Salmacis, and Hermaphroditus, than in any other Book, but always ſhort.

The Nymph claſps the Youth cloſe to her Breaſt, and both inſenſibly grow one.

Again, as Atlanta reddens in the Race with H • ppomenes,

Philomela's Tongue ſeem'd to move after it was cut out by Tereus.

Cadmus ſows the Dragons Teeth, and the Sons of the Earth riſe gradually.

The Objection to Ovid, that he never knows when to give over, is too manifeſt. Tho' he frequently expatiates on the ſame Thought, in different Words; yet in his Simile's, that Exuberance is avoided. There is in them all a Simplicity, and a Confinement to the preſent Object; always a Fecundity of Fancy, but rarely an Intemperance: nor do I remember he has err'd above once by an ill-judg'd Superfluity. After he has deſcrib'd the Labyrinth built by Daedalus, he compares it thus, B. 8. Non ſecus ac liquidus Phrygiis Maenandros in arvis Ludit, & ambiguo lapſu refluitque, ſluitque; Et nunc ad ſontes, nunc ad mare verſus apertum Incertas exercet aquas—

He ſhould have ended at the cloſe of the Second Line, as Virgil ſhould have done at the end of the Fourth in his noble Similè, where Dido proceeds to the Temple with her Court about her.

I ſee no Reaſon for the laſt Line: Tho' the Poet be juſtly celebrated for a moſt conſummate Judgment, yet by an Endeavour to imitate Homer's Simile's, he is not only very long, but by introducing ſeveral Circumſtances, he fails of an applicable Relation betwixt the principal Subject, and his new Ideas. He ſometimes thinks fit to work into the Piece ſome differing Embroidery, which, tho' very rich, yet makes at beſt but glorious Patchwork. I really believe his excellent Poem had not been the leſs ſo, if, in this Article, he had thought fit to have walk'd on in his own regular and Majeſtick Grace, rather than have been hurry'd forward through broken By-ways by his blind Guide.

I ſhall tranſcribe one of his Simile's which is not cull'd out, but exactly of the ſame Texture with all the reſt in the four laſt Books of the Aeneids.

Turnus leaps in Fury from his Chariot. Aen. B. 12. L. 684 Ac veluti montis ſaxum de vertice praeceps Cum ruit avulſum vento, ſeu turbidus imber Proluit, aut annis ſolvit ſublapſa vetuſtas, Fertur in abruptum magno mons improbus actu Exultatque ſolo, ſylvas, armenta, viroſque Involvens ſecum—

It does not ſeem to be at all Material, whether the Rock was blown, or waſh'd down by Wind, or Rain, or undermin'd by Time.

But to return to Ovid; the Reader may take Notice how unforc'd his Compliments, and how natural his Tranſitions generally are. With how much Eaſe does he ſlide into ſome new Circumſtance, without any Violation of the Unity of the Story. The Texture is ſo artful, that it may be compar'd to the Work of his own Arachne, where the Shade dyes ſo gradually, and the Light revives ſo imperceptibly, that it is hard to tell where the one ceaſes, and the other begins.

When he is going off from the Story of Apollo, and Daphne; how happily does he introduce a Compliment to the Roman Conquerors.

He compliments Auguſtus upon the Aſſaſſination of Julius; and, by way of Similè, takes the Opportunity from the Horror that the Barbarity of Lycaon gave.

Julius is deify'd, and looks down on his adopted Son.

And immediately follows— Hic ſua praeferri quanquam vetat acta paternis; Libera fama tamen, nulliſque obnoxia juſſis Invitum praefert.—

The Author in the two firſt Lines ſhows the Affectionate Condeſcention of the Father; in the three laſt, the pious Gratitude of the Son.

The Compliments to Auguſtus are very frequent in the laſt Book of the Metamorphoſes; as thoſe to the ſame Emperor are in the Georgicks of Virgil, which alſo ſtrike the Imagination by their agreeable Flattery.

Again on Julius, Aen. B. 1. Imperium Oceano, famam qui terminet aſtris Julius—

The Compliments have a great Sublimity, and worthy of the Grandeur of the Heroes, and the Wit of the Poet.

Ovid as much deſerves Praiſe, for ſaying a great deal in a little, as Cenſure for ſaying a little in a great deal. None of the Claſſick Poets had the Talent of expreſſing himſelf with more Force, and Perſpicuity.

Phaeton deſires ſome Pledge of his Father's Tenderneſs, and asks to be truſted with his Chariot. He anſwers, B. 2. Pignora certa petis; do pignora certa timendo.

However, the latter complies with his Importunity: the Conſequence is fatal, the World is ſet on Fire, even the Rivers feel the force of the Conflagration. The Tagus boyls, —Fluit ignibus Aurum.

The Nile retreats, Occuluit que caput, quod adhuc latet—

Zanthus is parch'd up, Arſuruſque iterum Zanthus—

The Poet's Fancy is here full of Energy, as well as in the following Lines. Apollo courts Daphne, and promiſes himſelf Succeſs, but is diſappointed. Quodque cupit, ſperat; ſuaque illum Oracula ſallunt.

And again,

The River Achelous combats Hercules, and aſſumes ſeveral Shapes in vain, then puts on at laſt that of a Snake; the Heroe ſmiles in Contempt. Cunarum labor eſt angues ſuperare mearum.

Ovid never excells himſelf ſo much, as when he takes Occaſion to touch upon the Paſſion of Love; all Hearts are in a manner ſenſible of the ſame Emotions; and, like Inſtruments tun'd Uniſons, if a String of any one of them be ſtruck, the reſt, by conſent, vibrate.

Procris is jealous of Cephalus; ſhe endeavours to be confirm'd in her Fears, but hopes the contrary, —Speratque miſerrima falli.

The next is not leſs Natural, —Sed cuncta timemus amantes.

Biblis is in love with Caunus. The Struggle is betwixt her unlawful Flame, and her Honour.

She's all Confuſion at the Thoughts of diſcovering her Paſſion— —miſerere fatentis amorem.

She attempts to write, Incipit & dubitat: ſcribit, damnatque tabellas, Et notat, & delet: mutat, culpatque probatque

In the End, Inclination, as it does always, gets the better of Diſcretion.

This laſt Fable ſhows how touchingly the Poet argues in Love Affairs, as well as thoſe of Medea, and Scylla. The two laſt are left by their Heroes, and their Reflections are very Natural, and Affecting. Ovid ſeem'd here to have had Virgil's Paſſion of Dido in his Eye, but with this difference; the one had convers'd much with Ladies, and knew they lov'd to talk a great deal: The other conſider'd no leſs what was natural for them to ſay, than what became them to ſay.

Virgil has, through the whole Management of this Rencounter, diſcover'd a moſt finiſh'd Judgment. Aeneas, like other Men, likes for Convenience, and leaves for greater. Dido, like other Ladies, reſents the Neglect, enumerates the Obligations the Lover is under, upbraids him with Ingratitude, threatens him with Revenge, then by and by ſubmits, begs for Compaſſion, and has recourſe to Tears.

It appears from this Piece, that Virgil was a diſcerning Maſter in the Paſſion of Love: And they that conſider the Spirit, and Turn of that inimitable Line—Qui Bavium non odit—cannot doubt but he had an equal Talent for Satyr.

Nor does the Genius of Ovid more exert on the Subject of Love, than on all others. In the Contention of Ajax, Ulyſſes his Elocution is moſt nervous, and perſwading. Where he endeavours to diſſwade Mankind from indulging carnivorous Appetites in his Pythagorean Philoſophy, how emphatical is his Reaſoning!

I think Agricolam had been ſtronger, but the Authority of Manuſcripts does not warrant that Emendation.

Through the whole Texture of this Work, Ovid diſcovers the higheſt Humanity, and a moſt exceeding good Nature. The Virtuous in Diſtreſs are always his Concern; and his Wit contrives to give them an Immortality with himſelf.

He ſeems to have taken the moſt Pains in the firſt, and ſecond Book of the Metamorphoſes, tho' the Thirteenth abounds with Sentiments moſt moving, and with calamitous Incidents, introduc'd with great Art. The Poet had here in View, the Tragedy of Hecuba in Euripides; and 'tis a wonder, it has never been attempted in our own Tongue. The Houſe of Priam is deſtroy'd, his Royal Daughter a Sacrifice to the Manes of him that occaſion'd it. She is forc'd from the Arms of her unhappy Friends, and hurry;d to the Altar, where ſhe behaves herſelf with a Decency becoming her Sex, and a Magnanimity equal to her Blood, and ſo very affecting, that even the Prieſt wept.

She ſhows no Concern at approaching Death, but on the Account of her old, unfortunate Mother, Mors tantum vellem matrem mea fallere poſſit. Mater obeſt, minuitque necis mea gaudia; quamvis Non mea mors illi: verum ſua vita gemenda eſt.

Then begs her Body may be deliver'd to her without Ranſom, —Genetrici corpus inemptum Reddite; néve, auro redimat jus triſte ſepulchri, Sed lacrymis: tunc, cum poterat, redimebat & auro.

The unhappy Queen laments, ſhe is not able to give her Daughter royal Burial, Non haec eſt fortuna domûs—

Then takes the Body in her decrepid Arms, and halts to the Sea to waſh off the Blood, —Ad littus paſſu proceſſit anili Albentes laniata comas.—

The animated Thoughts, and lively Images of this Poem, are numerous. None ever painted more to the Life, than our Author, tho' ſeveral Groteſque Figures are, now and then, ſeen in the ſame Groupe. The moſt plentiful Seaſon, that gives Birth to the fineſt Flowers, produces alſo the rankeſt Weeds. Ovid has ſhown in one Line, the brighteſt Fancy ſometimes; and in the next, the pooreſt Affectation.

Venus makes Court to Adonis, B. 10. l. 550 —Et ecce! Opportuna ſuâ blanditur Populus umbrâ Et requievit humo; preſſitque & gramen & ipſum.

Phoebus requeſts Phaeton to deſiſt from his Requeſt.

Caeneus in the Battle of the Centaurs wounds Latreus in ſeveral Places.

Theſe are ſome of our Poet's Boyiſms. There is another Affectation, call'd by Quintil. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , or a witty Folly, which wou'd not have appear'd quite ſo trifling, had it been leſs frequent.

Medea perſuades the Daughters of Pelias to kill their Father, in order to have his Youth renew'd. She that loves him beſt gives the firſt Wound, B. 7. Et, ne ſit ſcelerata, facit ſcelus—

Althea is enrag'd at her Son Meleager, and to do Juſtice to the Manes of his Brothers, deſtroys him, Impietate pia eſt—

Envy enters Athens, and beholds the flouriſhing Condition of the City, Vixque tenet lacrymas, quia nil lacrymabile cernit.

Ovid was much too fond of ſuch Witticiſms, which are more to be wonder'd at, becauſe they were not the Faſhion of that Age, as Punns, and Quibbles are of this. Virgil, as I remember, is not found trifling in this Manner above once, or twice.

Juno is in Indignation at Aeneas upon his Arrival in Italy.

The Poet is ſo far from Affecting this ſort of Wit, that he rarely ventures on ſo ſpirited a Turn of Fancy, as in theſe following Inſtances.

Juno upbraids Venus, and Cupid Ironically, that two Deities cou'd be able to get the better of one weak Woman, 〈…〉 —Memorabile nomen, Una dolo Divûm, ſi ſaemina victa duorum eſt.

Euryalus, going upon an Enterpriſe, expreſſes his Concern for his ſurviving Mother, if he ſhou'd fall, and recommends her to the Care of Aſcanius, who Anſwers,

Venus is importunate in her Sollicitations to Vulcan, to make Armour 〈◊〉 her Son: He Anſwers, 〈…〉 —Abſiſte precando Viribus indubitare tuis—

At the firſt kindling of Dido's Paſſion, he has this moſt natural Thought, —Illum abſens abſentem auditque, videtque.

But to return to Ovid; tho' I cannot vindicate him for his Points, I ſhall endeavour to mollify his Criticks, when they give him no quarter for his Diction, and attack him ſo inflexibly for ending his Lines with Monoſyllables, as—ſi quis—ſi non, &c. and as I think he cannot be excus'd more advantagiouſly, than by affirming that where he has done it once, Virgil has twenty times—Et cum —Si quis—Nec dum— —Si quam—Si quis— —Jam bos—Nunc nunc—&c. G. 1. G. 2. G. 2. Aen. 1. Aen. 7. Aen. 12.

There are a great many Endings of Lines in this manner, and more indeed than ſeems conſiſtent with the Majeſty of Heroick Verſe. When Lines are deſign'd to be ſermoni propiores, this Liberty may be allowable, but not ſo when the Subject requires more ſonorous Numbers. Virgil ſeems to endeavour to keep up his Verſification to an Harmonious Dignity; and therefore, when fit Words do not offer with ſome • aſe, he'll rather break off in an Hemiſtick, than that the Line ſhou'd be lazy, and languid. He well knew how eſſential it was in Poetry to flatter the Ear; and at the ſame time was ſenſible, that this Organ grows tir'd by a conſtant Attention to the ſame Harmony; and therefore he endeavour'd now and then to relieve it by a Cadence of Pauſes, and a Variation of Meaſures.

This Line ſeems not tuneful at the firſt hearing; but by Repetition, it reconciles it ſelf, and has the ſame Effect with ſome Compoſitions of Muſick, which are at the firſt Performance tireſome, and afterward Entertaining.

The Commentators, and Criticks are of Opinion, that whenever Virgil is leſs Muſical, it is where he endeavours at an Agreement of the Sound with the Senſe, as, —Procumbit humi bos.

It wou'd ſhow as much Singularity to deny this, as it does a fanciful Facility to affirm it, becauſe it is obvious, in many Places he had no ſuch view. Aen. 3. l. 390. —Inventa ſub ilicibus ſus. G. 3. l. 255. —Denteſque ſabellicus exacuit ſus. Aen. 7. l. 79 • —Jam ſetis obſita, jam bos. Aen. 11. l. 355. —Furor additus, inde Lupi ceu, &c.

The Places, which favour moſt the firſt Opinion, are, G. 3. l. 275 Saxa per & ſcopulos, & depreſſas convalles. G. 4. —Sepe exiguus mus. Omnia ſub magnâ labentia flumina terrâ.

The laſt Line is the only Inſtance, I remember (except one in Ecl. 2.) where the Words terminate in the ſame Vowel, and ſeem to repreſent the conſtant, and uniform ſound of a ſliding Stream.

Thoſe, that are moſt converſant in Claſſick Poetry, muſt be ſenſible, that Virgil has been much more ſolicitous, than Ovid, to keep up his Lines to an eaſy, and a Muſical Flow; but tho' the Criticks charge the latter with breaking through Proſody and Grammar, and allowing himſelf too often the Licence of Graeciſms; I take this Cenſure to be only an arrogant Pedantry in the Grammarians, and groundleſs in it ſelf; but tho' it were true, I dare be confident it is full as juſt upon Virgil, Ec. 5. l. 29. —Curru ſubjungere Tigres,

For Currui, according to the Grammarians.

Often Adjectives for Adverbs; and the contrary. G. 1. —Pinguia culta; an Adjective for a Subſtantive. —Denſo diſtinguere pingui; the ſame. Aen. 11. l. 69. —Seu languentis Hyacinthi; firſt Foot of the Dactyl ſhort. Aen. 4. —Tulerunt faſtidia menſes; the penultima of the Verb ſhort. Obſtupui ſteteruntque comae—the ſame.

So Lucretius, prodiderunt, occiderunt, &c. G. 1. l. 283. —Pampineo gravidus autumno; an Iambick for a Spondee. Fluviorum rex Eridanus campoſque per omnes; an Anapeſt for a Dactyl, or a Spondee. Aen. 10. l. 29. Nec Clytio genitore minor nec fratre Mneſtheo; a Trochee, unleſs the two Conſonants M N of the following Word be allow'd. G. 1. l. 456.Fervere. non illâ quiſquam—

The Penultima commonly ſhort with Virgil, ſo fulgere, ſtridere, &c.

The learned, and Reverend Dr. Clark has obſerv'd, (as he tells me) that tho' there be ſeveral ſhort Vowels made long in Homer, yet there is no Inſtance on the contrary, of a long Vowel (ſuch as the firſt Syllable of 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , and the like) made ſhort, except in ſuch a Caſe as that I have cited, where the next Word begins with a Vowel; which ſhows, that there is no ſuch thing as a Poetica licentia, properly ſo call'd.

Certainly no body can imagine but theſe two celebrated Authors underſtood their own Tongue better, than the ſcrupulous Grammarians of Afterages, who are too Dogmatical, and Self-ſufficient, when they preſume to cenſure Either of them for not attending ſtrictly enough to Syntax, and the Meaſure of Verſe. The Latin Tongue is a dead Language, and none can decide with Confidence on the Harmony, or Diſonance of the Numbers of theſe Times, unleſs they were thoroughly acquainted with their Pauſes, and Cadence. They may indeed pronounce with much more Aſſurance on their Diction; and diſtinguiſh where they have been negligent, and where more finiſh'd. There are certainly many Lines in Ovid, where he has been downright Lazy, and where he might have avoided the Appearance of being obviouſly ſo by a very little application. In recording the Succeſſion of the Alban Kings, thus, Epitus ex illo eſt, poſt hunc Capetuſque, Capyſque, Sed Capys ante ſuit—

There are alſo ſeveral Lines in Virgil, which are not altogether tunable to a modern Ear, and which appear unfiniſh'd. G. 2. l. 61. Scilicet omnibus eſt labor impendendus, & omnes Cogendae in ſulcum— G. 2. l. 310. Praesertim si tempeſtas a vertice ſylvis Incubuit— Aen. 11 l. 509. Quaſve referre parem? ſed nunc, eſt omnia quando Iſte animus ſupra— Aen. 12. l. 808. Iſta quidem quia nota mihi tua, magne, voluntas, Jupiter—

But the Sun has its Spots; and if amongſt Thouſands of inimitable Lines, there ſhou'd be ſome found of an unequal Dignity with the reſt, nothing can be ſaid for their Vindication more, than, if they be Faults, they are the Faults of Virgil.

As I ought to be on this Occaſion an Advocate for Ovid, whom I think is too much run down at preſent by the critical Spirit of this Nation; I dare ſay, I cannot be more effectually ſo, than by comparing him in many Places with his admir'd Contemporary Virgil; and tho' the laſt certainly deſerves the Palm, I ſhall make uſe of Ovid's own Lines, in the tryal of Strength betwixt Achelous and Hercules, to ſhow how much he is honour'd by the Contention.

I ſhall finiſh my Remarks on our Author, by taking Notice of the Juſtneſs, and Perſpicuity of his Allegories; which are either Phyſical or Natural; Moral; or Hiſtorical. Of the firſt Kind is the Fable of Apollo, and Python; in the Explanation of this all the Mythologiſts agree; Exhalations and Miſts being the conſtant Effects of Inundations, are here diſſipated by the Rays of the Sun.

Of the Second Kind, are Acteon torn to Pieces by his own Pack of Dogs, and Eriſicthon ſtarv'd by the Diſeaſe of Hunger. Theſe two Allegories ſeem to ſignify, that Extravagance and Luxury end in Want.

Of the Third, is the Story of the Rape of Europa. Hiſtory ſays, ſhe was Daughter to Agenor, and carry'd by the Candians in a Gally, bearing a Bull in the Stern, in order to be marry'd to one of their Kings nam'd Jupiter.

This Explanation gives an Occaſion for a Digreſſion which is not altogether foreign to the preſent purpoſe, becauſe it will be of Uſe to juſtify Ovid on ſome other Occaſions, where he is cenſur'd for being too free with the Characters of the Gods. I was once repreſenting the Metamorphoſes, as an excellent Syſtem of Morality; but an illuſtrious Lady, whoſe leaſt Advantage above her Sex, is that of being one of the greateſt Princeſſes in Europe, objected, that the looſe and immodeſt Sallys of Jupiter did by no means confirm my Aſſertion.

One muſt conſider, that what appear'd an Abſurdity in Ovid, is not ſo much his own Fault, as that of the Times before him. The Characters of the Gods of the old Heroick Age repreſented them unjuſt in their Actions; mutable in their Deſigns; partial in their Favours; ignorant of Events; ſcurrilous in their Language. Some of the ſuperior Hierarchy treating one another with injurious Brutalities, and are often guilty of ſuch Indecencies and Miſ-behaviour as the loweſt of Mortals would bluſh to own. Juno calls Diana, the Goddeſs of Chaſtity, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Brazen-fac'd Bitch.Hom. Il. 1. B. 21. l. 481. Jupiter inſults his Daughter, the Goddeſs of Wiſdom, for Raſhneſs and Folly; bids Iris tell her, he'll maul her Coach-Horſes for her, like a ſurly Bitch as ſhe is; 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 :Il B. S. from I. 400. to I. 425. then threatens in another Place to beat his Wife, that divinc Vixon, the immortal Partner of the Empyreal Throne, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 .Il. B. 15. l. 17.

The Commentators may endeavour to hide thoſe Abſurdities under the Veil of Allegories; but the Reader that conſiders the whole Texture of the Iliad, will find, that the Author's Meaning, and their Interpretation are often as unlike, as the imaginary Heroes of his time, are to the real ones of Ours.

Allegories ſhould be obvious, and not like Meteors in the Air, which repreſent a different Figure to every different Eye. Now they are Armies of Soldiers; now Flocks of Sheep; and by and by, nothing.

Perhaps the Criticks of a more exalted Taſte, may diſcover ſuch Beauties in the antient Poetry, as may eſcape the Comprehenſion of us Pigmies of a more limited Genius. They may be able to fathom the Divine Senſe of the Pagan Theology; whiſt we aim at no more, than to judge of a little common Senſe.

It is, and ever will be a Rule to a great many, to applaud and condemn with the general Vogue, tho' never ſo ill grounded. The moſt are affraid of being Particular; and rather than ſtrive againſt the Stream, are proud of being in the wrong with the Many, rather than deſirous of being in the right with the Few: and tho' they be convinc'd of the Reaſonableneſs of diſſenting from the common Cry, yet out of a poor fear of Cenſure, they contribute to eſtabliſh it, and thus become an Authority againſt others, who in reality are but of their own Opinion.

Ovid was ſo far from paying a blind deference to the venerable Name of his Grecian Predeceſſor, in the Character of his Gods; that when Jupiter puniſhes Andromeda for the Crimes of her Mother, he calls him injuſtus Ammon, Met. B. 4. and takes commonly an honourable care of the Decorum of the Godhead, when their Actions are conſiſtent with the Divinity of their Character. His Allegories include ſome Religious, or inſtructive Moral, wrap'd up in a peculiar Perſpicuity. The Fable of Proſerpina, being ſometimes in Hell, and ſometimes with Ceres her Mother, can ſcarce mean any thing elſe than the ſowing and coming up of Corn. The various Dreſſes, that Vertumnus, the God of Seaſons, puts on in his Courtſhip of Pomona the Garden Goddeſs, ſeem plainly to expreſs the different and moſt proper times for Digging, Planting, Pruning, and gathering the Increaſe. I ſhall be ſhorter on this Head, becauſe our Countryman Mr. Sands has, by a laborious Search amongſt the Mythologiſts, been very full. He has annex'd his Explanations to the end of each Book, which deſerve to be recommended to thoſe, that are Curious in this figurative Learning.

The Reader cannot fail of obſerving, how many excellent Leſſons of Morality Ovid has given us in the courſe of his Fables.

The Story of Deucalion, and Pyrrba teaches, that Piety and Innocence cannot miſs of the divine Protection, and that the only Loſs irreparable is that of our Probity, and Juſtice.

That of Phaeton; how the too great tenderneſs of the Parent proves a cruelty to the Child; and that he, who wou'd climb to the Seat of Jupiter, generally meets with his Bolt by the way.

The Tale of Baucis and Philemon is moſt inimitably told. He omits not the minuteſt Circumſtance of a Cottage Life; and is much fuller than Virgil, where he brings in his contented old Man Corycius. G. 4. Ovid repreſents a good old Couple; happy, and ſatisfy'd in a cleanly Poverty; hoſpitable, and free of the few things, that Fortune had given them; moderate in Deſires; affectionate in their conjugal Relation; ſo religious in Life, that when they obſerv'd their homely Cabbin riſing to a Temple, all the Bounty they ask'd of the Gods they had entertain'd, was, that they might do the Office of Prieſthood there; and at their Death, not ſurvive one another.

The Stories of Lycaon, and Pentheus, not only deter from Infidelity, and Irreverence to the Gods; but the laſt alſo ſhows, that too great Zeal produces the ſame Effects, as none at all; and that Enthuſiaſm is often more cruel, than Atheiſm.

The Story of Minos, and Scylla repreſents the Infamy of ſelling our Country; and teaches, that even they who love the Crime, abhor the Criminal.

In Cippus we find a noble Magnanimity, and Heavenly Self-denial: he prefer'd the Good of the Republick to his own private Grandeur; and choſe with an exemplary Generoſity, rather to live a private Free-Man out of Rome, than to command Numbers of Slaves in it.

From the Story of Hercules we learn, that Glory is a Lady, who, like many others, loves to have her Admirers ſuffer a great deal for her. The Poet enumerates the Labours of the Heroe; ſhows how he conquer'd every thing for Others, but nothing for himſelf: Then does him the Poetical Juſtice of an Apotheoſis; thinking it moſt fit that one, who had born the Celeſtial Orbs on his Shoulders, ſhou'd have a Manſion amongſt them.

From the Aſſumption of Romulus; that when War is at an end, the chief Buſineſs of Peace ſhould be the enacting good Laws; that after a People are preſerv'd from the Enemy; the next care ſhou'd be, to preſerve them from themſelves; and therefore the beſt Legiſlators deſerve a Place amongſt Heroes, and Deities.

From Ariadne being inhumanly deſerted by Theſeus, and generouſly receiv'd by Bacchus we find, that as there is nothing we can be ſure of, ſo there is nothing we ought to deſpair of.

From Althea burning the Brand; that we ſhou'd take care leaſt under the Notion of Juſtice, we ſhou'd do a Cruelty; for they that are ſet upon Revenge, only endeavour to imitate the Injury.

From Polyphemus making Love to Galatea one may obſerve, that the moſt deform'd can find ſomething to like in thier own Perſon. He examines his Face in the Stream, combs his ruful Locks with a Rake, grows more exact, and ſtudious of his Dreſs, and diſcovers the firſt Sign of being in Love, by endeavouring at a more, than uſual Care to pleaſe.

The Fable of Cephalus, and Procrys confirms, that every Trifle contributes to heighten the Diſeaſe of Jealouſy; and that the moſt convincing Proofs can ſcarce cure it.

From that of Hippomenes, and Atalanta we may diſcover, that a generous Preſent helps to perſuade, as well as an agreeable Perſon.

From Medea's flying from Pelias's Court; that the offer'd Favours of the Impious ſhould be always ſuſpected; and that they, who deſign to make every one fear them, are afraid of every one.

From Myrrha; that Shame is ſometimes hard to be overcome, but if the Sex once gets the better of it, it gives them afterwards no more Trouble.

From Cenis; that Effeminacy in Youth may change to Valour in Manhood, and that as Fame periſhes, ſo does Cenſure.

From Tereus; that one Crime lays the Foundation of many; and that the ſame Perſon, who begins with Luſt, may conclude with Murther.

From Midas; that no Body can puniſh a Covetous Man worſe, than he puniſhes himſelf; that ſcarce any thing wou'd ſometimes prove more fatal to us, than the Completion of our own Wiſhes; and that he who has the moſt Deſires, will certainly meet with the moſt Diſappointments.

From the Pythagorean Philoſophy, it may be obſerv'd, that Man is the only Animal who kills his Fellow-Creature without being angry.

From Proteus we have this Leſſon, that a Stateſman can put on any Shape; can be a Spaniel to the Lyon, and a Lyon to the Spaniel; and that he knows not to be an Enemy, who knows not how to ſeem a Friend; that if all Crowns ſhou'd change their Miniſtry, as often as they pleaſe, tho' they may be call'd other Miniſters, they are ſtill the ſame Men.

The Legend of Aeſculapiu's Voyage to Rome in form of a Snake, ſeems to expreſs the neceſſary Sagacity requir'd in Profeſſors of that Art, for the readier Inſight into Diſtempers: This Reptile being celebrated by the ancient Naturaliſts for a quick Sight.

The venerable Epidaurian aſſum'd the figure of an Animal without Hands to take Fees; and therefore, grateful Poſterity honour'd him with a Temple. In this manner ſhou'd wealthy Phyſitians, upon proper Occaſions, practiſe; and thus their ſurviving Patients reward.

If the Metamorphoſes be attended to with a juſt Application, and without Prepoſſeſſion; One will be the leſs ſurpriz'd at the Author's Prophetick Spirit, relating to the Duration, and Succeſs of the Work; Jamque opus exegi, &c.—

This Prediction has ſo far prov'd true, that this Poem has been ever ſince the Magazine, which has furniſh'd the greateſt Poets of the following Ages with Fancy, and Alluſions; and the moſt celebrated Painters with Subjects, and Deſigns. Nor has his Poetical Predeceſſors, and Contemporaries paid leſs Regard to their own Performances.

Again, Hor. B. 3. Od. 30. Exegi monumentum aere perennius, Regalique ſitu Pyramidum altius, Quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens Poſſit diruere, aut innumerabilis Annorum ſeries, & fuga temporum. Non omnis moriar.—

The whole Ode is in a manner a continu'd Compliment to his own Writings; nor, in Imitation of this celebrated Author, want we Poets of our preſent Age, who have been pleas'd to rank themſelves amongſt their own Admirers.

I have done with the Original, and ſhall make no Excuſe for the length of the Preface, becauſe it is in the power of the Reader to make is as ſhort as he pleaſes. I ſhall now conclude with a Word or two about the Verſion.

Tranſlation is commonly either Verbal, or Paraphraſe, or Imitation; of the firſt ſort is Mr. Sands's, which I think the Metamorphoſes can by no means allow of. It is agreed, the Author left it unfiniſh'd; if it had undergone his laſt Hand, it is more than probable, that many Superfluities had been retrench'd. Where a Poem is perfectly finiſh'd; the Tranſlation, with regard to particular Idioms, cannot be too exact; by doing this, the Senſe of the Author is more entirely his own, and the Caſt of the Periods more faithfully preſerv'd: But where a Poem is tedious through Exuberance, or dark through a haſty Brevity, I think the Tranſlator may be excus'd for doing what the Author upon reviſing, wou'd have done himſelf.

If Mr. Sands had been of this Opinion, perhaps other Tranſlations of the Metamorphoſes had not been attempted.

A Critick has obſerv'd, that in his Verſion of this Book, he has ſcrupulouſly confin'd the Number of his Lines to thoſe of the Original. 'Tis fit I ſhould take the Summ upon Content, and be better bred, than to count after him.

The Manner that ſeems moſt ſuited for this preſent Undertaking, is neither to follow the Author too cloſe out of a Critical Timorouſneſs; nor abandon him too wantonly through a Poetick Boldneſs. The Original ſhould always be kept in View, without too apparent a Deviation from the Senſe. Where it is otherwiſe; it is not a Verſion, but an Imitation. The Tranſlator ought to be as intent to keep up the Gracefulneſs of the Poem, as artful to hide its Imperfections; to copy its Beauties, and to throw a Shade over its Blemiſhes; to be faithful to an Idolatry, where the Author excells; and to take the Licence of a little Paraphraſe; where Penury of Fancy, or Dryneſs of Expreſſion ſeem to ask for it.

The Ingenious Gentlemen concern'd in this Undertaking ſeem to be of this Opinion; and therefore they have not only conſulted the Reputation of the Author, but their own alſo. There is one of them has no other Share in this Compliment, than by being the Occaſion of engaging them that have, in obliging the Publick. He has alſo ſo juſt to the Memory, and Reputation of Mr. Dryden, as to give his incomparable Lines the Advantage of appearing ſo near his Own.

I cannot paſs by that Admirable Engliſh Poet, without endeavouring to make his Country ſenſible of the Obligations they have to his Muſe. Whether they conſider the flowing Grace of his Verſification; the vigorous Sallies of his Fancy; or the peculiar Delicacy of his Periods; they'll diſcover Excellencies never to be enough admir'd. If they trace him from the firſt Productions of his Youth, to the laſt Performances of his Age, they'll find, that as the Tyranny of Rhyme never impos'd on the Perſpicuity of the Senſe; ſo a languid Senſe never wanted to be ſet off by the Harmony of Rhyme. And as his earlier Works wanted no Maturity; ſo his latter wanted no Force, or Spirit. The falling off of his Hair, had no other Conſequence, than to make his Lawrels be ſeen the more.

As a Tranſlator he was juſt; as an Inventer he was rich. His Verſions of ſome parts of Lucretius, Horace, Homer, and Virgil throughout, gave him a juſt pretence to that Compliment which was made to Monſieur d'Ablancourt, a celebrated French Tranſlater; It is uncertain who have the greateſt Obligations to Him, the Dead or the Living.

With all theſe wondrous Talents, He was Libell'd in his Life-time by the very Men, who had no other Excellencies, but as they were his Imitators. Where he was allow'd to have Sentiments ſuperior to all others, they charged him with Theft: But how did he Steal? no otherwiſe, than like thoſe, that ſteal Beggars Children, only to cloath them the better.

'Tis to be lamented, that Gentlemen ſtill continue this unfair Behaviour, and treat one another every Day with moſt injurious Libels. The Muſes ſhould be Ladies of a chaſte and fair Behaviour: when they are otherwiſe, they are Furies. 'Tis certain that Parnaſſus is at beſt but a barren Mountain, and its Inhabitants contrive to make it more ſo by their un-neighbourly Deportment; the Authors are the only Corporation that endeavour at the Ruin of their own Society. Every Day may convince them, how much a rich Fool is reſpected above a poor Wit. The only Talents in Eſteem at preſent are thoſe of Exchange-Ally; one Tally is worth a Grove of Bays; and 'tis of much more Conſequence to be well read in the Tables of Intereſt, and the Riſe and Fall of Stocks, than in the Revolution of Empires.

Mr. Dryden is ſtill a ſad, and ſhameful Inſtance of this Truth: The Man, that cou'd make Kings immortal, and raiſe triumphant Arches to Heroes, now wants a poor ſquare Foot of Stone, to ſhow where the Aſhes of one of the greateſt Poets, that ever was upon Earth, are depoſited.